


A Slice Of Cake

by ashallee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e09 Blackwater, F/M, One Shot, The Battle of the Blackwater, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:16:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashallee/pseuds/ashallee
Summary: “...When a man's blood is up, anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you will look very, very good. A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten.” - Cersei Lannister to Sansa Stark, Season 2, “Blackwater”





	A Slice Of Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a SanSan roll, I guess!
> 
> Re-watched "Blackwater" (2x09), and Cersei's speech to Sansa stood out to me. I felt like it really frightened her, especially when she finds you-know-who waiting in her rooms.

_A precious thing like you will look very good. A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

Sansa’s ears rang with Cersei’s words as she ran through the halls. The sooner she’d get to her chambers, the sooner she’d be safe. Not that she knew what safe was any longer; any semblance of it had disappeared when her father was killed.

_...A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

Sansa’s feet moved faster.

Stannis Baratheon was here, attacking King’s Landing in order to claim the throne from his nephew, and the ladies had been huddled together, worrying and praying. Sansa had prayed too, but kept looking over her shoulder at Ser Ilyn Payne, the man who swung a sword and murdered the most honourable Lord in the Seven Kingdoms. She would have preferred anyone else to the mute, expressionless Ser who stood motionless by the door. She would have even preferred Sandor Clegane, with is harsh words and gruff behaviour; he would have watched over them, even though he would have hated it, and she would have felt a little safer knowing he was there. But the Hound was outside, fighting for the Lannisters, defending the King. Sansa had tightened her eyes as she prayed with the other women, wishing with all her might that Joffrey might die. The Queen called her over and spoke cruelly to her, as of she could read Sansa’s thoughts about her beloved son.

_...A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

Shae told Sansa to flee to her rooms, where she could wait for Stannis when he finally breached the castle. Without any arguments, she slipped past Ser Ilyn Payne once the Queen departed, not caring if anyone saw her running. She had caught a glimpse of the battle as she passed an open window, seeing the green flames rising out of the Blackwater, stopping for a moment, entranced by the colour that illuminated the soldiers that fought below. Though Shae had told her not to stop for anything, Sansa couldn’t help but stare. She had never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying at once.

Not until she met Cersei.

_...A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

The sounds of swords clashing brought her back to her purpose, and she began running again. Stannis Baratheon was a serious man, Cersei said. He would never harm her himself, but what could she say for his men? If he won, she would be nothing but a spoil of war. Being Ned Stark’s daughter would mean nothing to his soldiers, men who would be surging high on their victory, thinking of nothing but taking what they could. Being the sister of the King in the North would offer no protection, either. They might even see it as something to be proud of: the one who claimed the maidenhead of Sansa Stark. A chill suddenly ran through her veins as her feet made light clipping sounds in the empty hall, and she thought she would never reach her rooms before she would crumble into hysterics.

_...A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

If Cersei had been trying to put fear in Sansa’s heart, she succeeded. Immensely.

Finally, she saw her door. With a sob of relief, she turned the handle and closed it firmly behind her, making sure to bolt the lock. The lantern she had lit before going with the women was down to the last bit of wax, and she took it to her dressing table, taking in deep breaths to calm herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her doll and picked it up, feeling the need to remember the way things used to be. She had her flowers now, and she was a woman, but what she wouldn’t give to be a girl again. A naive little girl who loved getting presents from her father. A wistful smile stretched on her face as she thought of him, the good Ned Stark of Winterfell.

“The lady’s starting to panic.”

The voice appeared out of nowhere, gravelly and hoarse, and Sansa spun around to see who was there. Her heart hammered in her chest, frozen with fear that a soldier had escaped the fray and found her chambers, waiting to rape her. She was shocked to see it wasn’t just any soldier.

The Hound.

“What are you doing here?” she accused, trying not to show she was scared. He sat on the bench at the foot of her bed, dripping with blood and dirt from the battle, stinking to high heaven and perfectly at ease in her little room. Cersei’s words echoed again and again in her mind as Sansa stared at the ferocious warrior, afraid of what he might do. If she was to call for help, no one would come. She was sure no one would even bother to help her if they did hear her screaming. They would let the Hound have his way with her.

_...A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

“Not here for long,” he rasped, finally. He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “I’m going.”

He would abandon the fight? “Where?”

“Someplace that...isn’t burning.”

Sansa recalled Lord Baelish’s story of the burns that marred the Hound’s face.

The flames.

The Blackwater was ablaze and Sandor Clegane was _frightened_.

“North, might be.” He turned his face to her finally, with a small flicker of what seemed like hope in his eyes. “Could be.”

Sansa held her breath. “What about the King?”

The Hound lifted a wineskin to his mouth and took a long drink. Not the first, she assumed, of the night. “He can die just fine on his own.”

Sansa couldn’t believe what she had just heard him say. The King’s most stalwart soldier, his shadow, was willing to run and leave for good. She didn’t think his loyalty would ever waver to Joffrey, but it seemed even the King’s dog wasn’t willing to die for him. She was about to turn away when his next words stopped her from making any moves at all.

“I could take you with me.” The Hound said it as though he had been thinking of asking her for some time. “Take you to Winterfell.” He stood and walked over to her, and she shrank away from him, suddenly afraid. "I'll keep you safe." _Safe from whom_ , Sansa wanted to cry out. _He_ was the one who frightened her. "Do you want to go home?"

Home.

He was offering to take her to Winterfell, back to Robb and Theon, back to her mother. She was more than tempted to accept him, to throw her arms around him and let him whisk her away from King's Landing. But it was a risk she was afraid to take; things that could happen between the city and home. The safest option in Sansa's mind was to stay and take her chances that Stannis would send her back home himself.

"I'll be safe here," she found herself telling him. "Stannis won't hurt me."

The Hound suddenly reached out for her arm, clutching it. "Look at me!" He demanded, shaking her, and Sansa let out a little whimper in fear.

_...A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten._

Oh gods, she prayed, if he meant to kill her or rape her, just let him finish quickly!

"Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers." She stared at him as he spoke, trying not to flinch away from the smell of wine on his breath or intensity of his eyes as he leaned down to her. "Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers," he finally straightened and sniffed loudly, looking suddenly sad. "So you better get used to looking at them."

She did look at him. He was a killer, there was no doubting it. But there was something in his manner, something in his words that made her shoulders relax and lift her chin.

"You won't hurt me," she whispered, finally understanding. He was trying to make her realize that she would never be truly safe from anyone. That, in his own way, he was always watching out for her, trying to make her see the world for how it really was. He gave a small, sad smile, looking at her like he was commiting her face to his memory.

"No, Little Bird. I won't hurt you."

He let her go, still watching her face before finally unbolting the door and leaving Sansa alone in her room, clutching her doll and listening to the sounds of fighting outside. She suddenly didn't care who was winning the battle, she didn't care that Cersei said those hateful things to her.

She realized that Sandor Clegane meant what he said. He would have kept her safe from harm, as he had always done.

As he always would, should they ever meet again.


End file.
